


It is sweet and glorious to die for one's country.

by TricksterBusiness



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bucky Barnes as Captain America
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 21:37:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4851386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TricksterBusiness/pseuds/TricksterBusiness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If it had been Steve to fall of the train instead of Bucky. </p>
<p>[AU. Twitter Solo.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	It is sweet and glorious to die for one's country.

**_“If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood_ **

**_Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,_ **

**_Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud_ **

**_Of cold, incurable sores on innocent tongues,_ **

**_My friend, you would not tell with such high zest_ **

**_To children ardent for some desperate glory,_ **

**_The old lie; Dulce et Decorum est_ **

**_Pro patria mori.”_ **

 

The mission was messy, but not impossible. Bucky and Steve, infiltrating the Hydra train that supposedly harboured Arnim Zola. Them and the rest of the howling commandos who waited back on the cliff for further orders. The Howling Commando Gabe Jones was creeping along the roof, trying to get to Zola too.

"I had him on the ropes." Bucky insisted, lowering the gun. Steve had stepped in to prevent another Hydra soldier from gaining the upper hand. Bucky took care of him as Steve knocked him into Bucky's line of fire.

"I know you did." Steve's tone was almost affectionate, the soft moment between the men in such a brutal situation; that damned war. Bucky would've cracked a smile, if he had the time.

“GET DOWN!”

Steve grabbed Bucky, shielding him from the blast from a heavily armoured soldier. The blast knocked Steve to the side, and ripped open a hole in the side of the train. Wind howled inside the carriage, the cold cutting through Bucky’s clothes and running chills down his spine. His head was spinning from the blast as he scrambled for Steve’s shield that lay before him. He lifted himself to his feet and fired at the soldier. Shots from his gun ricocheted off his shoulders. There was a whir, and another flash of blue. Desperately Bucky shot again, the bullet ripping through the Soldier’s throat. The blue blast from the soldier’s weapon fired to the other wall, tearing through the metal like it was mud.

“Told ya- Steve?” Bucky’s quip was short lived as he looked around for his friend. His stomach dropped as he stumbled to the newly formed hole in the side of the train, the shield slipping from his hands and clattering on the floor.

Bucky gripped onto the side of the train as he craned his neck to look outside. He stifled a cry when he saw Steve clinging onto the side, dangling by a weak looking rail.

“No, STEVE!” He yelled out, searching for something he could grab onto. Carefully he steadied himself on a sturdy chunk of metal that jutted from the train. Wrapping his arm around a bar and holding himself tightly to it, he held out a hand to Steve. He could hear the bar Steve was holding onto weaken under his weight. “GRAB MY HAND!”

Steve struggled to keep his hold on the bar. He reached out, his fingers mere inches away from Bucky’s. If he just reached out, if he leaned forward a little more-

The bar gave a loud groan and snapped from the carriage. Steve plummeted with a scream. Bucky lurched forwards and almost lost his footing. He screamed after his friend, the howling wind eventually drowning it out.

 

-

 

“It wasn't worth it.”

Bucky’s words came out choked. Sitting around a table of his superiors in the army, Bucky kept his head low to hide how red his eyes were. It’d been a few days, since the tragic loss of Steve Rogers. The US was trying to stamp all over the rumours, they couldn't let the people lose hope.

As for Bucky? It wasn't hope he’d lost. It was his best friend.

“Sergeant Barnes,” Colonel Chester Phillips spoke as softly as what his gruff voice would allow. “I'm sorry for your loss, we all are. But the time for mourning can’t be now. We need to figure out a game plan of revealing to the United States Government that we just lost a very, _very,_ big investment. Do you wanna tell them that? Because I sure as hell don’t.”

“You’re talking about him like he was just a _weapon_.”

“Essentially,” spoke up a Lieutenant. “He was. For the people and for us. Now we have to work on getting that kind of force back. He was a beacon. Something we need, for morale of both sides. It encourages us, and scares the shit out of the other guys!”

“We need suggestions, Barnes.” Phillips tried to combat Bucky’s shocked stare with a reasonable tone. “We need another guy to fill his shoes.”

“Steve was a good man.” Bucky sighed, fingers knocking on the table in thought. “You’re not going to find another guy like that, hate to break it to you.”

“No…” Phillips agreed. “We’re not. But we can find the next best thing he gave us.”

“He gave you his life, isn't that enough?” Bucky barked, the officials beside him exchanging uncomfortable glances.

Phillips locked his gaze onto Bucky’s. “The loyalty of his best friend.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up, and the soldier straightened up. “You- You want _me_ to take it on? Are you out of your freaking mind?!”

“Nope. Just desperate. We have a lot of Rogers’ blood, for research. Stark and our team are thinking that if we’re lucky, his super-cells will fuse- or something- to yours if we pump you with enough of it.”

“This is nuts.” Bucky shook his head incredulously. “You’re all insane. How do you even know it’ll work?”

“We don’t.” Phillips admitted. “But, even if your cells aren't as friendly as we’re hoping, we at least have a guy out in the field, fighting the good war back for our people at home. Think about what Roger’s would've wanted, Barnes. He would've wanted someone keeping the faith in this great country alive.”

“You’re wrong.” Spoke another voice. Eyes shifted to Peggy, who had remained stoic throughout the entire time Bucky was there. She finally lifted her intent gaze on her hands to Bucky, her head raised high and back straight. “He would've wanted you to protect those who couldn't protect themselves, no matter what you had to pretend to be to do it.”

Bucky and Peggy stared at each other for a moment. Bucky slowly nodded, blinking away from her to let out a shaky breath.

“So. What d’ya say, soldier?” Phillips asked. The colonel had reached beneath him and pulled out the scuffed shield, placing it right in the middle of the table. Bucky swallowed thickly.

“Let’s hear it for Captain America.” He muttered bitterly, followed by feeble applause by the men around him.

 

-

 

This was personal. Bucky mowed a path through the Hydra soldiers on the Red Skull’s plane. The new serum pumping through his veins and his heartbeat chugging in his ears. Howard Stark hadn't been wrong. The serum took to his body, just not as strongly as it had for Steve. Though diluted, the serum was still powerful. And when Bucky had pulled down that mask, he made a promise. He wasn't going to stop until this war was over. That was a promise he swore on Steve’s grave, and that he would take to his own.

The shield clanged as it collided with Red Skull’s face. He jeered at Bucky, but was fighting the wrong fight. He believed he was taking on Steve. Until he launched himself onto his back and grabbed at Bucky, pulling off the mask.

Bucky swung his shield at the Red Skull and let himself drop onto him. Both men rolled, temporarily subdued by the pain. The Red Skull paid a quick glance to Bucky, his brow furrowing. “Where is the real Captain America?!”

Bucky snarled and got to his feet. He kicked at the Red Skull with the fury over Steve’s death. The maniac tripped falling back down onto the machine that glowed such an intense blue it was almost distracting.

The Red Skull groaned, trying to push himself back up. A dark chuckle escaped him, a malicious grin twisting his latex skin. “He’s dead, isn't he!”

It was a statement, not a question. That bastard knew.

The Red Skull cackled. Bucky screamed at him and threw his shield down. The Red Skull rolled out of the way and the shield cracked the machine. Bucky was thrown back by swirling blue energy. The Red Skull cried out, grabbing the glowing cube as it rolled out of the machine. He was still for a few moments, yelling at Bucky something the soldier couldn't hear from the ringing in his ears.

The cube obviously wasn't made for people, Bucky observed. A white light began to consume the Red Skull, and Bucky could hear him screaming out. Bucky watched on with wide eyes, unable even to feel smug at how the Red Skull began to burn up. Bucky averted his eyes from the intensity of the light as it completely enveloped the Red Skull.

When the screaming stopped, he looked on. He’d disappeared, and was left alone in the plane. He let the cube dissolve through the floor and stumbled up to the controls. He sank down in the seat, mentally cursing himself. The plane was going down, and it was going down fast.

“Bucky?” His intercom piped up, the voice of Peggy Carter flooding him with temporary relief.

“Peggy,” he smiled briefly, tapping at the controls in the effort to find a solution to his problem that was plummeting towards the ocean. His smile faded as he remembered the bombs. The bombs that were going to detonate, and aimed for his home. “Peggy, I got bad news.”

“Whatever it is, we’ll figure something out.” Peggy cut in quickly. She’d been protective of Bucky since he’d taken the mantle. Hell, she was terrifying when it came to Bucky. He thought she thought she owed Steve, or god knows. He was always glad for it.

“No, Peggy.” Bucky shook his head. “I gotta put her in the water. The amount of bombs on this plane would wipe out a state, I can’t… I have to put her down.”

“Bucky, how could you say that?!” She snapped at him. Her panic was clear in her voice. “Just- let’s work this out. We lost Steve, don’t you go too, don’t be brash!”

“Peg…” Bucky said softly. He ruefully smiled at the closer approaching water. “Peggy, I’m gonna see Steve again. It’s alright.” Bucky found he was laughing to himself. He wasn't much of a believer in God or destiny, after the war, but something about this… It felt good. Predestined or _whatever_.

“Bucky…” Peggy choked from the other end. “Bucky, please don’t do this.”

“I gotta do what I gotta do, doll.” He nodded solemnly, letting his hands fall away from the controls. “I’ll see you on the other side. I’ll give Steve my love. Don’t you worry about me, I'm…” He swallowed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I'm gonna be just fine.”

The impact was crushing. As soon as they hit, Bucky blacked out by the sheer force of the plane crashing against the water.

 

-

 

 

James Barnes’ eyes blinked open at the crackling sound of a radio and a soft breeze blowing over him. He was in a rather plain room, open windows, and traffic honking from down below. Slowly he pushed himself up and swung his legs over the bed, turning to look at the radio. He listened to it carefully, his brow furrowed. There was a game on… A familiar one.

His train of thought was cut short by a woman entering the door. She flashed him a fake, professional smile. “Good morning,” She checked her watch, her smile plastered on her face like a sticker. “Or should I say afternoon.”

Bucky glanced around, his stance cautious. He didn't trust this, at all. “Where am I?”

“A recovery room in New York City.”

“Bullshit.” He snapped at her, shooting up to his feet. “That game is from 1941, I was there, I took Steve to that game. Where the hell am I? I'm not gonna ask nicely again!”

“Mr. Barnes-” The woman stepped back, and the door clicked behind her. Men entered the room, all in black and carrying guns.

Right, he thought as he stared at the heavy artillery the men were packing. New plan.

Bucky burst through the flimsy wall of the fake room, stumbling out. He ran from the people that were screaming at him, pushing past people. The scenery changed around him, things were different. The halls he ran through were sleek, shiny, and nowhere near as gritty as he remembered. Was he in an alien world?

He ran outside, dodging traffic and running straight into Times Square. At least, he thought that’s what it was. It was _different._

“At ease, soldier.”

Bucky turned on his heel to glare at the voice. A tall man stood in a long coat, an eye-patch covering on of his eyes. He was backed up by other men, and Bucky had a feeling they weren't inclined to be friendly if he tried anything.

“The hell am I?” He barked at the man, who only seemed to smirk at his hostility.

“I thought it be best to break it to you slowly. But, seeing as you _broke_ out, I may as well come clean. My name’s Director Nick Fury. You’re in New York City. When your plane went down, you didn't die. You just went comatose. The serum in your body and the freezing by Mother Nature kept you alive. You've been asleep, Cap.”

He paused, taking a few steps towards Bucky. He watched him intently with his eye, and rested a firm hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “For 70 years.”

It felt like a punch to the gut. Bucky stared at Fury’s hand with disdain, his jaw clenching. He looked at him with angry eyes, peeling his hand off his shoulder. “Should have left me in that ocean, Nick.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is a solo for the twitter account https://twitter.com/DuIceEtDecorum. Based off the poem By Wilfred Owen, "Dulce et Decorum Est." This might not be my greatest work, but I hope you enjoy!


End file.
